


Playing it Safe

by BobRoser



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Non-Consensual Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 05:28:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/896344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BobRoser/pseuds/BobRoser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'You're really sweet. I can see why Sherlock keeps you around. His own loyal dog. But open those pretty brown eyes. And how pretty they are. Sherlock's on my leash. He's MY dog. And I'm his mistress.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Doctor, Actually

She sidled in, red lipstick glittering slightly in the morning light.  
I looked up from my experiment.  
'Oh, erm... Hello. Do I know you?'  
'Sherlock does', the woman replied, casually.  
'Wait, you're...' a rush of realisation paralysed me, momentarily 'John, he, um, told me you were in America'  
'Of course, they must have made up something, spare the dear boy's feelings. He knew the truth, of course.'  
'His feelings?'  
'Wouldn't want to hurt the little lamb, would we?' she simpered. 'Now, where can I find him?'  
'He's dead'  
'You know as well as I do you're lying, Miss Hooper-'  
'It's um, Doctor, actually'  
'Aw, diddums. Loyal little lapdog, telling the story he wants you to. Has it ever occurred to you that you're being used?'  
'No, I, I just care about...' the words caught in my throat, and I was speechless.  
'Back to the point, I think. Where is he?'  
'W-why do you want to know?'  
'Well, I'm sure he's been missing me, and I need some... Help, with a... Difficult matter.'  
'Miss you? Why would he, um, miss you?'  
'Oh, we were... Friendly.'  
'He never talked about you.' I was finally finding my feet, confidence building.  
'Of course, not to you.'  
'What do you mean?' I could see in her eyes that she knew she'd found my weakness.  
'Why would he talk to some frumpy lab geek about love?'  
'He... he didn't love you.'  
'No, no, of course not, my mistake. Lust is far more powerful, when it comes to... Careful manipulation. As he says himself, sentiment is a chemical defect, found in the losing side. He didn't love me, Miss Hooper, he wanted me.'  
'Doctor. Sherlock has... Changed. Sherlock and I, we're close now. If he had really been interested in you, I'd have heard about it.' I blurted out, almost more concerned with convincing myself than her.  
'Of course, of course... Close now, are you? Interesting. But I need to find him. He's my code-cracker, and I know how to make him dance. Clearly, something you're yet to master.' She plucked a thermometer out of one of the test tubes dotted around the work bench, and began twirling it, much in the manner that she had once held her riding crop  
'How?... You, you, you bitch! I won't tell you where my Sherlock is just so you can find him and manipulate him.'  
'Your Sherlock, is he? How sweet. Unrequited love is so tragic. Not something I'm familiar with experiencing, of course.'  
'He doesn't love you. He never did. He trusted me with everything, he always has, he said so. And I will protect him.'  
Irene smirked. 'You're really sweet. I can see why Sherlock keeps you around. His own loyal dog. But open those pretty brown eyes. And how pretty they are. Sherlock's on my leash. He's MY dog. And I'm his mistress.' She laughed a cold laugh, clearly enjoying the expression on my face. I turned away. I didn't know what to say. My self-doubt started to kick in and not for the first time, I wished I had more self-confidence. Irene was full of it, maybe that was why - no. No, he didn't love her. Of course he didn't. Of course he - and then I felt something plunge into my arm. The world suddenly twisted and the colours became so bright, I had to shield my eyes. Distorted images. A kaleidoscope of different images and pictures. A searing pain in my head. And then through all the blur, a shape I could recognise anywhere. 'B--yyyyou BITCH!" I slurred as I tried to focus on her agonisingly beautiful face. She threw away the needle. I recoiled and tried to crawl away but my limbs were so heavy, so very heavy. 'So where is Sherlock?' I wasn't going to tell her. No way was I telling her. 'Ah well the hard way is much more fun' she smirked and then a burning pain in my cheek. Over and over again. My head was so light now and I knew I was going to pass out soon. I just had to hold on till then... but it was so far away. And the pain - it was unbearable. A flashing blur - a high heeled boot stamping onto my shoulder. I screamed and she laughed. 'Well, I did ask you. Where is SHERLOCK?!' When I was still defiant, she snapped. "WHERE IS SHERLOCK?!" she demanded, as close to screaming as she possibly could without being detected by the other staff. She needn't have worried. They were all 5 doors down and wouldn't hear a sound. Sherlock. I focused on him. His black, messy hair, the way he always wrapped his trench coat around him, his rare smile. I smiled at the image in my head but was then wakened into reality with her face, absolutely furious, looming above me. She gave me the hardest slap around the head - harder than I thought possible - but then her eyes widened with alarm. I soon realised her mistake - the blackness was already sucking me in. She grabbed me by the collar and pulled me up to her face - "Bitch." she snarled, her face distorted in anger 'where is SHERLOCK?!' I stared into her eyes, which reflected my own hate and said quite simply and clearly 'He's mine.' And then the darkness consumed me.

All the feeling went from every part of me, and a peculiar sensation, somewhere between floating and sinking, took over me. Suddenly, four walls came towards me out of the blackness. It was 221B, I recognised the setting immediately. Sherlock and John's Christmas party. I had entered just at the moment that Sherlock wished me Merry Christmas. I felt his kiss on my cheek, but as he drew away, I looked down at my wine, and saw, reflected in the glass, a red lipstick stain on my cheek. I tried to rub I away, and looked up to see him, but suddenly he wasn't there, in his place stood Adler, laughing at me, and she raised her whip up, and I heard the crack, but just as it was about to hit me, I found myself back on the floor of the laboratory, and the real Adler looming above me.

'I know that hurt you, Miss Hooper. It makes you see things. Dreams, generally nightmares, in the daytime. Clever, wouldn't you agree? Would you like to see it again, Miss Hooper?'  
'Doctor! And no, I wouldn't.'  
'Then tell me where my Sherlock is.' As she said the words 'my Sherlock', I could hear that she was mocking me.  
'No! I won't. You can't make me!'  
She held the needle high, and I was immediately up on my feet, dodging her attack. I knew she wouldn't chase me, but I dashed to the back of the room, just in case, and stood up, wobbling at first, on one of the workbenches.  
'Scared, are we, Miss Hooper?'  
'No, cautious, actually, Miss Adler.', it had occurred to me that she always addressed me by name, and I should do the same.  
'Mm-hm... Sherlock wants risk, wouldn't you say? Doesn't tend to want to... Play it safe.' I could tell that by the risk, she meant herself, I was too safe for Sherlock.  
'What Sherlock wants is almost always different to what he needs.'

'Perhaps you're right. It's such a pity it doesn't make a difference to Sherlock' she smirked. She hopped onto the lab bench, crossed her legs in an extremely slutty manner and started refreshing her lipstick. 'So, what do you do here Miss. Hooper?' she said in between pouting her lips as she expertly applied the blood red shade. 'What does it matter to you?' I said defensively and I clutched the seat as once again the world went blurry 'Oh, I'm just trying to make conversation whilst the rest of the drug kicks in' she remarked casually but putting particular emphasis at the end of the sentence. 'Wh-what do you mean? The-the r-rest of th-' my mouth couldn't form the words and I collapsed for the second time. She laughed a delighted laugh - 'THAT, miss hooper, will be the rest of the drug'. Through the pixelated image of the surrounding world, I saw her face leering above mine; 'Sweet dreams!' And I was sucked into the beckoning nightmare.


	2. Free the Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were kissing and I felt a part of me die inside and I needed to get away - like a bird trying to flee the cage but no - I couldn't escape the nightmare just like a bird couldn't break the bars.

I gasped as I landed outside a familiar window. Inside, Sherlock was attacking an unfortunate corpse with a riding crop. Oh no. Not this memory - this embarrassing memory which would be forever imprinted on my brain - the time I tried to ask him out. Oh, god no. As I watched in dismay, I realised I was walking inside. What the hell was I doing?! I tried to stop - but the nightmare had other ideas. Sherlock was busy scribbling his boyish scrawl in his notebook and going on about bruises. I remember building up the courage to ask him, my heart thumping inside of me in anticipation and hope and before I knew it my mouth was forming those wretched words. "After this, I -" I started. "Yes?" he looked up from the notebook. "I was wondering if you would like to have coffee" my brain planting the words into my mouth before I could stop them. He stared at me for a long time before walking slowly up to me, so close our heads were only 5cm apart. "Of course. You mean the world to me." he whispered. My heart went wild, my breathing went uneven, the joy in my face was as easy to see as a bright neon sign at midnight. How long had I waited to hear those words? But - but, my brain was trying to communicate with my heart, which at the moment would rightfully earn a place at A & E, but this didn't happen. This isn't what happened. As the realisation sunk into me and my tongue felt the taste of dread again, Sherlock almost... passed through me. I turned around and then I saw her - Irene. She winked at me and then stroked Sherlock's cheek with the back of her hand, "Oh darling, it's been far too long" she crooned and then they leaned in - and... and they were kissing and I felt a part of me die inside and I needed to get away - like a bird trying to flee the cage but no - I couldn't escape the nightmare just like a bird couldn't break the bars. I tried to run but my legs were stuck, useless but I had lost my balance and now I was falling and about to hit the blue floor and ... I was outside St. Bartholomews now and there was a massive crowd all circling something. I ran forward - what was it? As I approached the mass of people, I recognised a familiar smell - the smell of blood. But it was fresh. Fresh blood. My heart pounded. I pushed my way through the crowd but they were like statues made of stone, impenetrable and impossible to move without extreme effort. When I finally barged my way through the crowd I saw John. And he was crying. I'd never seen him cry. Ever. Not even during our drunken games where we bitched about Sherlock when everyone used to cry out of laughter and because of an excessive amount of alcohol being consumed. Never. So why was he - and then I saw him. Sherlock. His cheekbones, his ever tangled hair, those eyes which always sparkled when he was high on a case but now there was something wrong with them - they were dead. And all that blood, that betraying red liquid flowing out of his head. But - but this wasn't right. His head shouldn't be injured. No he was alive. He was alive. Of course... he must be... he cant be ... no. NO. "NO!" I screamed as I cradled his head in my hands, "Sherlock - Sherlock can you hear me? CAN YOU HEAR ME? Please. Please, Sherlock. This wasn't the plan... this wasn't the plan" I was sobbing, great choking sobs which made my whole body shake with pain, the worst pain imaginable. "It's all your fault." A voice accused beside me, full of hate and pain: "You failed him. If you hadn't, he would have survived. He would be alive. It's all your fault." John stared at me, his face full of loathing. "It's all your fault". The whole crowd were saying it now, their faces reflecting John's. "No... no... it's not. It's not my fault." I shouted, my voice trembling in fear. Everyone was chanting it and they started to drag me away from Sherlock. "Get off me! Sherlock! SHERLOCK! HELP ME!!! " I screamed in pure terror as they dragged me. "SHERLOCK! GET TO THE FLAT! GET TO LIONEL STREET! SHERLOCK!" And the crowd dropped me and I fell and I was suddenly on the lab floor again. I was covered in sweat, my heart beating frantically, my throat aching. I had been shouting... I had been shouting. Oh my god. No. No. That meant - "Why thank you Miss Hooper. It took a long time but we finally got there. Lionel Street you say? Well thank YOU Miss Hooper. Thank you" She appeared above me and stroked my face with side of her boot. "It's been a pleasure." she said, her voice was one you would use to talk to a 5 year old child. The realisation sinked into me and filled my heart with terror. I had betrayed Sherlock. . 'Wh-what do you mean? The-the r-rest of th-' my mouth couldn't form the words and I collapsed for the second time. She laughed a delighted laugh - 'THAT, miss hooper, will be the rest of the drug'. Through the pixelated image of the surrounding world, I saw her face leering above mine; 'Sweet dreams!' And I was sucked into the beckoning nightmare hear me? CAN YOU HEAR ME? Please. Please, Sherlock. This wasn't the plan... this wasn't the plan" I was sobbing, great choking sobs which made my whole body shake with pain, the worst pain imaginable. "It's all your fault." A voice accused beside me, full of hate and pain: "You failed him. If you hadn't, he would have survived. He would be alive. It's all your fault." John stared at me, his face full of loathing. "It's all your fault". The whole crowd were saying it now, their faces reflecting John's. "No... no... it's not. It's not my fault." I shouted, my voice trembling in fear. Everyone was chanting it and they started to drag me away from Sherlock. "Get off me! Sherlock! SHERLOCK! HELP ME!!! " I screamed in pure terror as they dragged me. "SHERLOCK! GET TO THE FLAT! GET TO LIONEL STREET! SHERLOCK!" And the crowd dropped me and I fell and I was suddenly on the lab floor again. I was covered in sweat, my heart beating frantically, my throat aching. I had been shouting... I had been shouting. Oh my god. No. No. That meant - "Why thank you Miss Hooper. It took a long time but we finally got there. Lionel Street you say? Well thank YOU Miss Hooper. Thank you" She appeared above me and stroked my face with side of her boot. "It's been a pleasure." she said, her voice was one you would use to talk to a 5 year old child. The realisation sunk into me and filled my heart with terror. I had betrayed Sherlock.

'Just one more dose, I think, to placate you while I'm away.' I tried to dodge the needle, but to no avail, I was sinking, sinking again, and the last thing I saw was her sauntering out of the lab door.  
This time, I was standing on the roof of Bart's hospital, but there was no Moriarty. Irene Adler stood beside me.  
'Jump!' she whispered, and I feel myself falling, falling, falling. Something flapped out around me, and I turned my head to see that Sherlock's great-coat was flailing behind me. I grabbed a fistful of the fabric, and pushed it to my face. It still had that Sherlock smell, a combination of dry-cleaned tailoring, cigarette smoke and stolen squeezes of John's hair product. I hugged the coat around myself as the ground hurtled towards me, and suddenly I was back on the floor of Bart's, heart pounding. I had to go to Lionel Street. I had to get there first. There was no clock in the room, but I was able to approximate how long I'd been out based on the progress of the experiment. Adler had a 15 minute head start. I ran outside, lab-coat still on, and jumped in the first taxi I saw.  
'Lionel Street, ASAP.'  
I directed the driver through a series of shortcuts I'd picked up over the years working with Sherlock, and we arrived in Lionel Street just as Miss Adler was checking the seventh flat. I paid the driver, but did not run immediately. If I went straight to the nineteenth, Adler would know instantly where Sherlock was, but if I did nothing, I risked her reaching him unprotected and helpless. I made a snap decision, and rushed to the door. I had the advantage of the actual keys, not the innumerable collection of hairpins she used, and was quickly inside. Adler was quick to follow suit, abandoning her attempts to pick the eight lock and rushing over. I slammed and locked the door just as she arrived.  
'Sherlock!'


	3. My Strongest Dose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'You're not going to hurt him. I'm not going to let you. You're going to have to get past me to get to him' I threatened as I tried to subtly creep towards the vase on my left.  
> 'I'm not sure if you already noticed, Miss Hooper, but I've already hurt him. I wouldn't have had to if you weren't such a nuisance. I suppose what I'm trying to say is that it is your fault.'

I ran up the stairs. Sherlock lay on the floor of the virtually bare flat Mycroft had arranged for him, smoking. It didn't smell like tobacco, but I felt that was a matter for another time.   
'She's-coming. The-the woman. Adler.', I panted.  
Sherlock looked up.  
'Why?'  
'She thinks you'll help her.'  
'Why?'  
'Because you and I belong on the same side. And because you want to.' Her silhouette had appeared in the door way.  
'Why would I...?'   
'Shhhhh', her finger was already on his lips. 'Before we... Negotiate, I think we ought to get rid of our little distraction.' She turned to me. Sherlock sprang to his feet.   
'Leave Molly out of this!'  
'Aw, so protective of his little puppy dog', she whispered, stroking his cheeks. Sherlock looked confused, but less displeased with the situation than I might have hoped. He put his palms on top of hers, a gentle gesture. Suddenly, his fingers twisted round her hands and they were pulled behind her back.   
'Don't you dare lay a finger on Molly Hooper! This is nothing to do with her.'. There was something about possessive, overprotective Sherlock that was undeniably attractive.   
'Oh don't worry, I don't need to.' She tried to slip out of his grasp, syringe pointed in my direction, but his hands were too strong. I saw the direction of the syringe twirl round, however, and the drug was injected into Sherlock's palm, and he fell, limply, onto the carpeted floor.  
'No! Sherlock!' I cried out.  
Irene stroked his face with the back of her whip - she seemed to have procured one in her 15 minute head start.   
'Oh, I wish I hadn't had to do that' Irene crooned 'He is so fun to listen to... plus I wanted him to see what I'm about to do.' I had to think quickly, very quickly. I assumed the drug wouldn't be the one she had given me, probably a quick out cold one - but there was a danger he could choke on his vomit or on the fluid in his lungs. I needed to get to him as soon as I possibly could... but that mean getting past her. I'd have to fight her, which really wasn't my forte at all but I knew I could never forgive myself if something happened to him. I surveyed the room, looking for possible weapons and advantages. The only visible weapon in the room was the lamp, sitting on top of the desk and although I was positive Sherlock would have a gun somewhere, I didn't have the time to look for it.   
'You're not going to hurt him. I'm not going to let you. You're going to have to get past me to get to him' I threatened as I tried to subtly creep towards the vase on my left.  
'I'm not sure if you already noticed, Miss Hooper, but I've already hurt him. I wouldn't have had to if you weren't such a nuisance. I suppose what I'm trying to say is that it is your fault.' she sighed as she stared at Sherlock's crumpled body.  
'I wasn't the one who gave him the drug.' I pointed out. Irene pondered for a moment then laughed:  
'Very true Miss Hooper. You're getting the hang of back chatting. Now, as much as I would love to continue practicing it with you, I'm afraid you're wasting my time and I have a schedule. I have a appointment with someone from the CIA later.'  
'Just casual?' I questioned. I was nearly at the desk.  
'Oh, I'm sure it will start off casual. I'm trying to be delicate Miss Hooper.'   
'There really is no point.' I lunged for the lamp but with dismay I saw the flash of achievement in her eyes. They were the eyes of a lioness as she was about to catch her prey and I instantly realised this had been her plan. She leaped gracefully over Sherlock's body, and grabbed me in a neck hold. I cursed, I had left my back exposed and now I was powerless.  
'Please, Miss. Hooper. There really is not point struggling.' she said as she tightened her hold around my neck. I couldn't breathe. I gasped for air but none came. Was she going to kill me? I tried to fight, I needed to help Sherlock but I needed oxygen and soon my arms and legs were useless.  
'Finally!' Irene exclaimed as she released me. I gasped for air and was so relieved when I felt my lungs inhale and exhale as normal. But whilst I was still choking and gasping the sweet air, Irene had handcuffed me to the desk. I tried to slip my wrist out but it was futile. Irene leaped onto an armchair and perched there.  
'What do you want to talk about Miss. Hooper? We need to past the next fifteen minutes until dear Sherlock wakes up.'  
'Why have you handcuffed me? Why not drug me again?' I spat out.  
'Well, if Sherlock doesn't feel particularly inclined to talking...' she smirked at the thought. My heart quickened. I was positive Sherlock would help her - and that was the problem. Not only did I not want him to help her in the first place but that probably meant he would get sucked into her world again - and then... then. I knew what might happen. Irene laughed as she saw the fear on my face,  
'Scared are we Miss. Hooper? Scared of what Sherlock will feel when he thinks of me - what he DOES feel when he thinks of me. Oh, darling, I wish you weren't so blind. Then you could see he doesn't LIKE you. You need to get over him' I didn't respond. I was interested in something else. I swear... no. Yes! I saw it again! Sherlock's fingers, twitching ever so slightly. Irene followed what I was staring at and leapt up from the chair, a look of realisation on her face. But she was too slow. Before she was up, Sherlock was already on his feet and pointing a gun at her, the string shaken onto the floor.  
'Honestly. Not checking for weapons is a mistake a complete amateur would make Miss. Adler. Too caught up in the game again?' he raised his eyebrows in a mocking manner.  
'How long have you been conscious?' she whispered.  
'All the time.'   
'You take drugs far too often. That was my strongest dose.' Irene scolded but in an extremely flirtatious manner. She tried to advance towards him but he extended his arm, causing the gun to fill the empty space between them. She stopped, confused.  
'You tried to hurt Molly. Another mistake. I'm would add another threat but I'm pretty sure you've realised the seriousness of your situation. I really wouldn't move. At all.'


	4. Wouldn't, Couldn't, Shouldn't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'You've lost again, Miss Adler.'  
> 'Oh, the game's not over, yet! There's a move you're forgetting, I think.'

'Wouldn't, shouldn't, couldn't. I try to keep them out of my vocabulary. You, of all people, should know that, Mr. Holmes.'  
'You, Miss Adler, need to learn to see when you're beaten.'  
'I'm never beaten.'  
'Really, Miss Adler? Take a look around. Would you really claim to be winning this situation?' I was still chained to the desk.  
'Well...'  
'Really?' Sherlock cocked his head, sarcastically.  
'Depends on your definition of winning.' She blew him a kiss.  
'I'm really not interested in flirting with you Miss Adler.'  
'Pity really. Never did consummate our little frisson, did we?'  
'Move, and you die, Miss Adler.' Sherlock moved towards me, gun still pointed in Adler's direction.  
'You're so sweet to me, Sherlock.', she laughed, but she kept rooted to the spot all the same.  
Sherlock was a nimble lock picker, and was quickly and deftly removing my handcuffs.  
'You've lost again, Miss Adler.'  
'Oh, the game's not over, yet! There's a move you're forgetting, I think.'  
Sherlock looked momentarily confused, and then he saw. The last thing I saw was his face, shock and fear spreading across it, and then I was out cold once more. But there was no dream this time. I could hear what was going on around me, but there was nothing I could do to change it.  
'Handcuffs, booby-trapped, you see. Any attempt to unlock them, without the proper key, and a paralytic is released into the system of the wearer. Complex design, I had my people on it for weeks. Anyway, only I can get her out of that. So, you won't shoot me now, will you, Mr. Holmes?'

Switch to Sherlock POV (sorry. It kind of had to be done)

'All I ask is a little help, and your little pet here will be back to normal in no time.'  
'She isn't a pet. Pets are a superficial construct invented by the human race for the exclusive purpose of asserting its own dominance over the animal kingdom. Molly, however, is a person that I care about.'  
'What was that? Sentiment? Do I hear sentiment in your tone, Mr Holmes? Welcome, to the losing side. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I need you to decode this, if our little superficial construct wants to move again.'  
Adler handed me a memory stick.  
'Of course, there's no reason why you should help me...' Her hands were soft on my cheeks, but too smooth to be comforting, like a lizard's scales.  
'Little Molly may not be enough bait for Big Old Sherlock. Is this sufficient incentive?'  
And I felt her cold lips on my left cheek.  
'You know that doesn't work.'  
'It's worked before.'  
'And where did that get you?'  
'Oh, you know, somewhere abroad having my life saved my the Great Sherlock Holmes. I'd say that counts as working pretty well, wouldn't you, Mr Holmes?'  
'And now, you're at risk of having your life ended by the Great Sherlock Holmes. Funny how these things work out.'

I assessed the situation. Molly was completely and utterly paralysed. It was certain that without the antidote, she would never move again. I could see the fear in her brown eyes, which always betrayed her emotions to me, no matter how much she tried to hide them. Like now. She was being strong for me. She had taken drugs and was now paralysed and it had all been for me. I was almost - moved. I suddenly felt a powerful emotion overcome me and in that instant, I knew I would do anything, anything to protect Molly Hooper. And for that, I had to beat Irene Adler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the switch. Hope everyone followed that. It's just a paralysed narrator is a bit of a plot block... The next chapter will be longer.


	5. I'm Sorry, Molly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the only plan that would save Molly. And, even I knew, it would leave deep scars. Her love for me was evident and although I tried to distance myself away from her and tried to show her that she deserved better, she was always there. Loyal Molly. And now I was going to get us out of the mess I had dragged both of us into.

'I've beaten you before. And I can beat you again.' I said and there was no doubt in my mind that I would.  
'Oh, Sherlock. Pride always comes before a fall. Never say you've won until you've won.' she taunted.  
'I see you've learnt your lesson from last time' I remarked. After approximately 5 seconds, I had come up with the best plan for my securing of the antidote. It was the only plan that would save Molly. And, even I knew, it would leave deep scars. Her love for me was evident and although I tried to distance myself away from her and tried to show her that she deserved better, she was always there. Loyal Molly. And now I was going to get us out of the mess I had dragged both of us into.  
'Sherlock! What were you dreaming about?' Irene teased as she stroked my face and pulled me into reality.   
'Nothing of importance' I replied as I remembered where I was.  
'Now, Sherlock, if little lapdog here wants to walk again, please solve my little problem' Irene indicated towards the memory-stick.  
'With pleasure' I remarked coldly. I stared at Molly, her expression was blank, the drug forcing her muscles to relax. But I could see her eyes, which were overflowing with tears. I hoped she understood what I was about to do was an act. I hoped.  
I turned away from her and walked towards the desk, where I pulled my laptop out from the drawer. Irene hovered behind me but I ignored her and sat myself in the armchair.   
'I had so many people look at it. But none of them could decipher it. I'm talking about Cambridge, Oxford, even MI but none of them could figure it out. Although they were in an uncomfortable position at the time' Irene smirked.   
'No camera-phones anymore I see' I said whilst the memory stick's data was installed into my laptop.  
'No, as you said I've learnt my lesson' she grinned as she stroked my hair. 'Hmm. You use strawberry shampoo?' 'Yet you use Herbal Essences' I muttered, distracted.  
'You haven't lost your touch, Sherlock!' Irene laughed with delight. 'It's that document, there.' I directed the mouse to a document labelled ‘Tax letters’. It opened and there was a long string of numbers on the screen.   
I glanced at it. Clockwork, again. The world was so boring. It was obvious this was a plan for a new building, located in Westminster. These were all the measurements for the different pieces. They had even included a postcode. At a guess, I assumed it was a top secret government building. It made sense if this code was in the ownership of Miss Irene Adler. But I didn't want her to know this information. I had made that mistake before... and l had ruined my elder brother's whole project which he had been working on for years.   
'Easy' I remarked.  
'What is it?' Irene leaned in, barely containing herself with excitement.  
'Not telling' I teased. The beginning step of my plan.  
'Sherlock' she sighed 'what do I have to do to you to get you to tell?' 'Oh, I don't know Miss. Adler. You're the expert.' I was surprised at how easy flirting was. It was a wonder why John was so bad at it.  
'Really? Am I the expert? Does that mean I have control' she whispered seductively in my ear.  
'Perhaps' I said whilst looking into her huge blue eyes. And then I kissed her. The sensation was neither nice or unpleasant. But I wasn’t really concentrating on the kiss. I reached into her pocket and I felt it and in a flash, before she could even realise the presence of my hand in her pocket, I pulled out the antidote.   
'I see you haven't learnt your lessons, Miss Adler' I remarked as I got as far away from her as I possibly could. A look of disbelief crossed her face, she couldn't believe she had been fooled for the second time.   
'Sentiment. Again.' I sighed 'The losing side seems to be having a reunion party.' I walked over to Molly. Her face was streaked in tears. Her eyes were filled with suffering and pain. I sighed. ‘I’m sorry Molly’ I whispered. Her eyes stared back at me and they were unforgiving.

 

'Oh I really wouldn't worry, Mr. Holmes. You've broken her heart enough times already. No different, is it, really? She should be used to it by now. I wouldn't inject her with that, by the way. Could be the antidote, could also be a deadly poison.'  
'Don't play that game with me. I'm not stupid.' And the needle pierced Molly's skin, pale with fear.  
'Sherlock-I-Sorry, I...'  
'Molly, don't say anything. Please.'.  
'Sherlock, I'm waiting!', Irene cooed.  
She had my gun in her hands, pointing it at me. No, at Molly. How could I be so stupid?

I glanced back Molly, and I saw her plan etched across her face. It was a good plan, too. I nodded, and moved towards Adler.   
'I am SO sorry to waste your time, Miss Adler. Why don't we get back to the discussion at hand, perhaps.' I sat down at the computer, and pretended to be trying to decipher it. She sat on my lap, quickly distracted, gun down on the desk. It was almost like a switch had been flicked, and she had returned to 'dominatrix mode'. I could see Molly, she was silent as a mouse, but she had already picked up the syringe Adler had pierced my hand with earlier. Her strongest dose. The syringe was barely half full, but I hoped it would be enough. I switched my mind back to distracting The Woman. I turned to face her.  
'Got it yet, my pretty?', she crooned, her left index finger twirling a lock of my hair  
'Give me a moment.'  
'Taking you a bit longer thi- Argh!'  
Horror and pain spread across her face. Molly was on all fours on the carpet, and the syringe was stuck in Adler's right ankle. She collapse, elegant to the last, onto the desk.   
'You take her ankles!' We lugged the limp body down the stairs, and out onto the street.  
'Where next?' Molly asked.   
'We leave her here, for now, we've got business to attend to upstairs.' We ran back up, and I pulled the lighted out of my pocket. I pulled the memory stick from the laptop, and set it alight. The repugnant smell of melting plastic filled the air.  
'You might want to hold your nose, Molly.'   
I'm sure it sounds desperately unromantic to normal people, but there was something nice about standing there, watching the flames, knowing Molly and I had won our first battle together. The first of many.


End file.
